Don't Be Dead
by je-suis-a-toi
Summary: Set after Reichenbach, John never truly believed his best friend was dead, but of course after they meet again and hug briefly, he will punch him for making him wait so long. S/J  *FINAL CHAPTER UP*
1. Chapter 1

"Just please...please don't be," John took a shuddery breath and blinked away some tears threatening to fall, "dead." He took a second, allowing himself to stare at his best friend's grave and wonders how this could have happened. How Sherlock Holmes could have possibly done this. He had to be alive, _had _to be. John just couldn't imagine his world without him anymore. Four days ago, he had his best friend. Four days ago, John Watson was a happy man and now he didn't know what to do, didn't know where to go. All he knew is that this couldn't be happening, not now, not after everything. He let his eyes sweep over the grave once more before nodding shortly and turning to follow Mrs. Hudson back to the car.

"I'll have to get my cane back out of the flat," he muttered as he turned and felt the pain start to return. He winced and limped his way out of the graveyard.

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><p>"Oh John," Sherlock breathed as he watched his friend, the person who up until four days ago was the only friend Sherlock Holmes had ever acquired, limp his way away from a grave whom John Watson believed he lie in. Sherlock of course had two friends now, if you didn't count Mrs. Hudson (which Sherlock tended not to because she had always been more of a mother figure to him.) But now, now he had John and he had Molly, and he had hurt them both in irreversible ways.<p>

He longed to be able to go back to their flat and have John make him a delectable cup of tea, as he always did, but he knew that 1, John would not go back to 221B Baker Street. Not for a while at least, not until reporters stopped hanging around outside the front door, waiting with invading questions. Not until most of the world forgot about Sherlock Holmes, the fraud. And 2, because he had a new job-not a job solving murders, no that was over...for a while at least. Moriarty's men were now his priority. Of course, Moriarty was dead but he had hundreds of men just waiting for someone to give the signal. And it was Sherlock's job to get rid of them all-a simple enough task, but it might take a while.

Sherlock didn't quite understand the feelings going on inside his body, he generally felt that feeling much of anything was useless and just a waste of time but as he watched his best friend stare at his, supposedly, broken body and continued to watch him fall apart every day until the funeral he felt an odd pang in his chest. His heart felt like it was literally tearing, and as he turned away from London, turned away from 221B Baker Street, turned away from Molly, and turned away from John it continued to tear even further.

John had said that friends protect you, and that's what Sherlock had done, he had protected his friend. So why on earth did he feel this horrible? Wasn't helping people supposed to make you feel good, make you feel accomplished? Then again, he had always only helped Lestrade because otherwise he was impeccably bored and John and Mrs. Hudson tended to get unreasonably angry when he shot holes in the apartment.

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><p>AN- These are going to be relatively short chapters for now just because I feel like it but I have about 4 written now, so keep with me and let me know if I should just delete this story or keep going.


	2. Chapter 2

This was the twelfth time this week that John had gotten into a cab and gone to Baker Street simply to stand across the street from his old apartment and stare at the windows, praying that he would see some sign of movement, still holding on to the notion that Sherlock couldn't be dead. He simply was not allowed.

The reporter's had all gone, they'd finally given up after eight months of trying to get a reaction out of John, only succeeding once when he punched one of them in the face. Lestrade was the only person who kept trying to contact him, most likely because he felt guilty. Whether he felt guilt for realizing how stupid he had been to doubt Sherlock or guilt because he felt bad about helping to push a man to commit suicide John wasn't sure of but either way he did his best to ignore the man.

He sighed after staring at the windows for about ten minutes, squinting into the sun he made the trek across the street and opened the door to go see Mrs. Hudson.

"John! How wonderful to see you dear, the apartments still the way you left it." She always added that last part in every time they saw each other. He smiled at her and nodded, finally deciding to take her up on the offer of moving back in.

"Yeah, that's wonderful Mrs. Hudson; I was thinking maybe I could move back in this weekend." He smiled more as her face lit up and she hugged him tightly.

"That's fantastic deary, it's been so dreadful living her alone. Although I did get a call the other day, can you believe it? Someone's actually interested in the apartment downstairs." She shook her head and walked into the kitchen to make some tea. John nodded, barely taking in the comment and sat down on her couch preparing himself for the casual conversation that was inevitably going to be required of him in the next hour or two.

"So, uh, who was it that was interested in the downstairs apartment?"

"I don't know really," she called back from the kitchen, "some man, who called from Italy I think it was. Said he might not be renting it long but I told him that was no matter, any amount of new income will do." She smiled and brought his cup in, setting it down in front of him. "Said something about arriving this weekend so I expect you'll be moved back in around the time he arrives." John nodded and smiled, frowning a bit as he wondered who the new tenant could be.

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><p>Sherlock tried to contain his smile as he hung up the pay phone outside the coliseum, he just had one more of Moriarty's men to get rid of and he had just acquired a new living arrangement for while he did so. And apparently, his Italian accent wasn't as bad as he thought. He whipped the collar of his coat up so it covered his face and made his way to the train station.<p>

He knew it was dangerous, but he was confident enough that he could kill this man before he had a chance of running into John or Mrs. Hudson, he would just have to be rude and allusive for a while which are definitely two things that Sherlock Holmes is not bad at.

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><p>AN- Alright so, does it suck? I wasn't sure about uploading a Sherlock story since I've just started watching it this year, but I'm in love with the series so if you want me to stop cause I'm atrocious at writing it just let me know. Next chapter is longer, I promise.


	3. Chapter 3

John was woken by Mrs. Hudson, once again bursting into the flat and calling out his name. He quickly shoved a pair of pajama pants over his boxers and threw on his robe before walking down to the kitchen.

"What is it Mrs. Hudson?"

"Oh John, sorry to wake you. But that Italian man moved in last night and I was just wondering if you had a chance to meet him?" John looked at her in confusion for a minute before processing what she had said.

"Oh...uhm no." He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, trying to wake himself up some more. "No, I haven't met him yet, why?"

"Neither have I," she gave him a worried look before going over to the counter and boiling some water. "I was thinking maybe you and I could go down and see if he wants a cup of tea?" John refrained from groaning and nodded.

"Yeah, fine, alright." She smiled widely at him and finished making the tea, handing him his own cup which he greatly drank from before running up to his room to throw on a shirt so he didn't have to meet this man in his bathrobe.

"Ready?" He nodded and followed her down the stairs, silently regretting getting up a half hour ago.

"Hello, dear are you in there?" John found it odd to see Mrs. Hudson knocking since she had never done so with him or Sherlock but sighed and went with it, folding his arms in front of him.

He waited a few more minutes before touching her arm, "it doesn't seem like he's in right now Mrs. Hudson, and he might've had to go to his new job. I'm sure we'll meet him later."

She hesitated before nodding and smiling at him, they both went back up the stairs and John ran back up into Sherlock's and h...no his, his apartment only pausing to stare at Sherlock's door for a minute before silently making his way to it and opening the door. His breath caught as he stared at the room, it looked exactly as it had been left but it didn't feel empty. Someone had been here, and recently. John tried to keep himself together as he shut the door and made his way to the bed, curling up under the covers, the smell reminding him of his infuriating best friend. He felt a tear slip out of his left eye as he smiled into the pillow and laughed, realizing that once again Sherlock had not failed him.

He wasn't dead.

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><p>It physically pained Sherlock to not call out and tell Mrs. Hudson to shut it, because he was trying to think and it was obviously more important than her meeting her new fake tenant. But somehow he kept his mouth shut and he froze when he heard John's voice, telling her that he obviously wasn't home. He smiled slightly and reminded himself to find a way to thank John later.<p>

He had risked going up into his bedroom to grab his old torch earlier that morning and noticed nothing had been moved, which strangely made him feel worse. John and Mrs. Hudson seemed to be expecting he would come back. He decided that he would go back up later when John was at work and take a quick nap in his familiar bed, he never slept for more than 2 hours at a time and obviously no one had disturbed the room for months so why should John think to check it if he did happen to come back early?

The only problem in this plan was that Sherlock hadn't expected John to have continuously taken time off from the hospital, and definitely didn't expect to walk into his old room and find a man sleeping in his bed. Sherlock froze momentarily until his mind processed that obviously it was John, and there was no reason to get angry that someone was sleeping in his bed. He quietly walked over to John and watched as the soldier turned worriedly in his sleep, obviously plagued by one of his nightmares. Sherlock remembered many nights where he lay in his bed and listened to John's distress in the room above him and wanted nothing more than to make his friend's pain go away like he had with his leg. Sherlock closed his eyes in a silent sigh and quickly made his trek back down to his new room, careful to avoid his landlady.

He somehow found a way to evade both of them for the next week while he finally tracked down his final target and killed him, or rather took an old trick from an earlier case and found a way to make him kill himself so that Lestrade wouldn't get suspicious. He was ready to go back home, his name had been mostly cleared. He had made sure that it would be before killing all those men, he had no problem people thinking him a fraud, people had thought that his whole life so why should it matter now? But he knew it mattered to John and he didn't want to hurt his friend anymore after all the pain he had just caused him.

Sherlock never understood why The Lady in Pink would've still cared for her stillborn daughter 14 years in the aftermath, never understood the sentiment of death and love until he had faked his own death those many months ago. He understood now, the need to go to someone you cared about and having to choice but to walk away and move on. He came to the conclusion the he didn't quite like it, having his heart hurt like this. It wasn't very practical and it impaired your ability to see reason.

But now Sherlock could go back, he had the chance that normal dead people never had, he could go back to John and Molly and Mrs. Hudson, and yes even Mycroft, who he figured already knew where he was and had figured out many months ago that he was not, in fact, dead. No matter how much it begrudged him to admit it Mycroft and he did love each other, in their own way. His elder brother had always looked out for him, always taken dangerous things away from him when he knew Sherlock would go too far. The only thing stopping Sherlock from picking back up those needles these past months was the fact that he had to get back to John and that he knew, somehow, that Mycroft would find a way to stop him because he didn't want his baby brother to die of an overdose-not that Sherlock was stupid enough to overdose, the entire idea was completely laughable and outrageous. Sherlock, overdose on cocaine? It was simply ludicrous.

But how to you go back to your normal life after 8 months of being dead?

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><p>AN- See, told you it was longer. :) I'm uploading these all right now because I'm going to be unable to use the internet for the next two days so I figured if you guys liked it then you could at least have all that I had written so far, and if you didn't like it then you don't have to read it.


	4. Chapter 4

John awoke from Sherlock's bed once more, hoping to see some new sign of Sherlock but there was nothing. He sighed and went to reach for his cane,

"What the bloody hell?" He muttered as he searched under to bed to see if it had gotten knocked over during one of his nightmares and rolled underneath. He huffed, annoyed and limped his way out to the living room, holding onto the walls for support. His eyes searched for any glimpse of the silvery metal but he found none. "Mrs. Hudson, have you seen my cane?" He called as he walked past the open door before he froze. Why was the door open? Sherlock was the only person who left the door open; Mrs. Hudson always closed it if she came in looking for something. So either there was someone in the house, hiding or Sherlock had come back. His friend coming back seemed all the more likely since his cane was definitely missing and it pleased Sherlock to no end to irritate John.

John laughed as he pictured his best friend walking into his old room and nicking the cane before going to hide somewhere, just to annoy him. He walked into the kitchen and then checked the bathroom. No sign of Sherlock and only one place left to check. He found that he didn't have any pain in his leg as he bound up the steps to his room.

"You," he stated as he pushed open his door and found him sitting right in the center of his bed, twirling John's cane in his right hand, "are an asshole."

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><p>"Yes you've already established this fact many times before." Sherlock's eyebrows quirked up once and he turned his head a little to the left. "Now do tell me what you are doing with this insufferable piece of metal? I thought I told you the pain was fake." He couldn't stop the grin that fluttered onto his face as he got off the bed and walked towards John.<p>

He soon found himself engulfed in John, who has walked the rest of the way and wrapped his arms around him. Sherlock sighed and hugged his friend back, he thought it would be awkward hugging someone but with John it wasn't so bad. The next thing he knew they were separated and his friend was throwing a blow to his face.

Sherlock fell to the ground, clutching his cheek and blinking rapidly. He coughed a few times and cracked his neck before pulling himself off the floor and nodding.

"I expected that mu-" his words were cut off as he got another blow to his cheek and fell back down to the floor. "Are you _quite _done?" He asked, angry now as he stayed on the floor afraid that if he got up again he would only be sent back to his current position.

"You really are an annoying dick, you know that?" John huffed before extending his hand and pulling Sherlock up.

"So I've been told," he stretched his jaw and glared at his friend who just smiled in return.

"Right so, want some tea?"

"Yes please, if you would. I should probably go tell Mrs. Hudson that she no longer has an Italian living below her."

"That was you?" John didn't sound all that surprised as they made their way back down to the kitchen, John's cane left upon his bed completely forgotten. "Right well, you go do that, I'll make us both a cup." Sherlock nodded stiffly as he prepared himself to be hugged again and swiftly made his way downstairs, hoping to save himself some embarrassment by not calling her up and having her coddle him in front of John.

He knocked swiftly on her door 3 times and then folded his hands behind his back calmly.

"Just a minute dear, I'm just finishing up the wash!"

"I just wanted to inform you that your downstairs tenant seems to have left, good day Mrs. Hudson!" He called through the door and then swiftly tried to make it back up the steps but she had already wrenched her door open and grabbed his arm.

"Sherlock?" She sounded...happy and sad, and definitely confused. "Oh, Sherlock! I knew you would come back, I knew it!" He smiled slightly and hugged the old woman back, glancing up as John's shadow covered him as his friend stood in the doorway smiling at them. "We knew he would, didn't we John?" John nodded at her before asking her if she wanted a cup of tea and walking back into their kitchen.

He followed Mrs. Hudson back up the steps to his and John's apartment, leaving the door wide open behind him, just like he always had.

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><p>AN- Right so that's all I've written so far, but let me know if you guys think I should do some S/J slash, cause I would have no problem adding it in but I wasn't sure if it would fit right with this story. Either way I can see myself writing many more chapters because I don't have the writing capability of Mr. Moffat in any way so I definitely couldn't write an episode of Sherlock.


	5. Chapter 5

A week had gone by since Sherlock's return and they had managed to keep it hushed but today, Sherlock decided he and John needed to go visit a certain police station. John sighed and set down his mug after Sherlock told him to go get dressed and tried not to grin over the picture of what Donovan's face would look like when they walked into the station.

"Are we walking or finding a taxi?" Sherlock smiled at him before pulling his coat tighter and setting off at a brisk pace away from Baker Street. John smiled slightly and quickly followed his friend, pulling his own coat a little bit tighter as well.

Sherlock insisted that John walk in first and begrudgingly he agreed to it, but only if Sherlock followed right after him.

"John, how are you?" Lestrade had noticed him right away and ran up to shake his hand, John smiled politely in return and nodded before stepping aside, glad that the attention would be off him specifically in a moment. "Bloody hell...Sherlock?"

"Hello Lestrade, I see you still haven't fired Anderson. What _are_ you waiting for?" Sherlock strode up to him, shook his hand slightly and then walked into his office. Lestrade look at John confused who, after tearing his eyes away from Donovan and Anderson's horrified expressions, just shook his head and motioned to follow the detective.

"So, crime rate has been going up I've noticed." Sherlock had seated himself behind the desk and was flipping through the files stacked atop it.

"How did you...No, you know what, I don't even wanna know how in the bloody hell you're alive right now but were you the one clearing your name? Were you responsible for all those killings across Europe?"

"Oh Lestrade I am disappointed, you didn't notice the few in America too? Really, the police force is getting ever so lazy." John refrained from snorting and sat down in one of the other chairs. "Of course it was me, who else would be trying to clear my name besides John? Mycroft?" The detective let slip a short laugh and threw the files back into a hasty pile. "I need to know if I'm now welcome here or not, I know that Donovan and Anderson are the ones who convinced you to bring me in but I need to know if you have come to your senses yet or if you're still going to be incompetent enough to let them rule your authority."

Lestrade blinked a few times before obviously trying to hold back a smile. "Get the hell out of my chair Sherlock." The detective let out a small smile.

"Excellent." He pushed himself away from the desk and clapped the policeman on the back, "come along John, we're back in business and you need to start that blog of yours again!"

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><p>Sherlock was playing the violin as he walked around the room, observing John typing a new post on his blog about how they were up and running again. He was excited, boredom was starting to get to him after this past week and he didn't want to start shooting holes in the wall again, not after he had just gotten back into his home. He looked at the clock and decided to be nice and let Mrs. Hudson get some rest as he put his violin back on the coffee table and flipped his laptop open, automatically entering John's site and going through their old cases.<p>

"Are you...reminiscing?" John asked incredulously from behind Sherlock.

"Shut it Watson." He suppressed a smile and continued to scroll through the pages.

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><p>John bound down the steps from his bedroom and hummed as he started to make them tea, nodding at Sherlock who, no doubt been up for hours, was currently hunched over his laptop. John had been in a permanently good mood these past 2 weeks and he didn't plan on letting anything spoil it.<p>

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><p><strong>AN- Okay I'm reaaally sorry this one is so short, but I PROMISE the next two are longer, this chapter is basically a filler to get to the good part that Aqua-lily6 actually helped me with a little so thank you :)**

**But anyway, I hope you guys like it.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N- Okay so after reviewing the chapters I wrote I decided to add this little bit in, so what was previously chapter 6 is not 7 & so on. I also edited the beginning of Chapter 7 a little bit so feel free to go re-read that if you wish.**

**It's definitely short and just to kind of fill you in on what was going on in my head when I was writing this story before, but none the less enjoy. x**

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><p>Sherlock supposed he should've seen this coming. He knew Moriarty was just as brilliant as he was, known there was a possibility that the insane man was not truly dead just like Sherlock wasn't. But he hadn't come across any signs of the shorter, obsessed version of himself during the past 8 months. He had almost come to believe he truly was gone, that things were back to their normal ways.<p>

And then he'd gotten another envelope, with the same exact seal as before. Sherlock had decided, for once, that he should give John a break and go pick up the milk himself. It had just been sitting rather innocently outside on their steps.

He took a deep breath and picked the package up before carrying on his way in case John had been watching out the window. He quickly ripped the seal and peered inside to find a single index card.

_Let's play a game._

Sherlock set his jaw and angrily ripped the card in half, tossing it into the nearest trash can before heading into the corner shop.

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><p>John had noticed Sherlock had been tense ever since he came back from the store a few nights ago but made no comment on it, figuring it was just due to lack of interesting cases lately.<p>

"I've got a date tonight so I don't know when I'll be back." He slipped his jacket on as he spoke in general to the apartment, unsure where the detective was currently situated in it.

"Fine, have fun with your boring female." Sherlock's voice came from his room and John sighed, barely containing his eye roll and he kept his mouth shut and left.

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><p><em>Ready or not, here I <em>_come__ Holmes._

It was the second Envelope he had received. He'd gone into his room to fetch his cigarette stash and it had been settled just under his window. He barely registered when John was speaking to him, responding with one of his brains automated insults. He had to be prepared for when Moriarty showed, he was almost certain he wouldn't return to Baker Street but he had gotten no signs of where they would meet. He and John had no case right now so it's not like they would be going out. He also wasn't sure how long Moriarty would keep him on this string, the two envelopes had been just one week apart but Moriarty wasn't the type of man to get rid of his obsessions without torturing them a little first.

Sherlock huffed and tapped his fingers angrily against the top of his laptop as he sat on his bed, staring at the spot where the envelope had been waiting for him. What was he missing?

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><p>It happened about a week and a half later, he'd been on his way home from another unsuccessful date around midnight when John had been grabbed and another bomb had been placed on his chest.<p>

"Bollocks," He breathed as he stared at a dead man's grinning face.


	7. Chapter 7

Everything had been going perfectly, people were giving them cases again and he was on fire with solving them, as per usual. But of course, he couldn't really expect it to stay that way could he? Moriarty wasn't dead; of course he wasn't really dead, Sherlock didn't know how he deluded himself into thinking he must have been for so long. And when has a maniac been known to leave his obsessions alone for long?

Sherlock had been wrong. So very, very wrong and now he was standing back on the roof top of the hospital, except this time his life wasn't at stake, John's was.

"There's a lot to be said for plastic surgery now a days, isn't there Sherlock?" The man grinned at him as he walked out behind John, who once again had a bomb strapped to him.

"Really Moriarty what _is _your fascination with bombs? It's all a bit boring to be honest. I certainly thought you would be able to come up with something more original." Sherlock tried to retain himself, tried to make sure Moriarty couldn't tell how worried he was, how fast his heart was beating. Why was his heart beating so fast? It was because John was his friend, right? That must be it. Sherlock was new to this whole caring thing. He still wasn't used to these feelings and felt stupid about asking John about what they meant so he refrained from doing so. He wasn't used to that either-feeling stupid and he definitely did not enjoy it. Was that how normal people felt all the time? Blimey that must be horrible; no wonder people were so depressed that they decided to jump...

He let that thought trail off, for once realizing how insensitive he was being.

"Aw, has someone finally scared the big, bad Sherlock Holmes? Are you finally going to admit that I BEAT YOU?" Sherlock's heart sped up more as Moriarty grabbed hold of John and shook him as he screamed his last words but he shook his head ever so slightly and rolled his eyes.

"Really Moriarty, control yourself. You're behaving ever so childish." Oh dear God, I'm beginning to sound like Mycroft, Sherlock thought grimacing. What the hell has this man done to him?

"I AM NOT!" John flinched away from the crazed man who then grabbed him and held the remote control to the bomb up. "You killed all my men; I was astounded I must say that you were able to find all of them." Moriarty straightened his tie and cracked his neck. "However stupid and useless those men may have been Sherlock, I am a very vengeful man." He grinned at Sherlock again. "And I do so enjoy my pets; maybe John will make a new one." Sherlock couldn't help the slight narrowing of his eyes and the way his nostrils flared as he fought back the urge to shout MINE, and grab John, dragging him away. Was John his? Of course he was, they were friends. Did friends hold claim over each other? They must, if he's feeling this way.

John looked at him uncertainly, trying to deduce what he was thinking but he turned his back and paced the roof once again.

"What do you want?" Sherlock finally asked, his voice quiet this time, already knowing what was going to be asked and what he would have to do in order to save John's life.

"Kill yourself." It was said simply, no malice or happiness added. Sherlock swallowed then walked back to the pair and nodded shortly.

"FREEZE!" Sherlock stiffened as he heard the shout from behind him and Moriarty just grinned and held up the remote control that was obviously pressure triggered as he hadn't taken his thumb off it during this entire ordeal. Lestrade came up behind him with Donovan on the other side, both pointing their guns at Moriarty although Donovan did glance at Sherlock like she wished it was the other way round.

"Lestrade, leave." Lestrade gave him a look that clearly stated he thought Sherlock had finally gone insane before continuing to advance on Moriarty.

"Ah, ah, aaaah," Moriarty let out a small laugh as he held the trigger up higher and wiggled it in front of the cops, who then froze and lowered their guns slightly.

"You alright John?" John nodded at Lestrade shortly, Sherlock noticed the pulse point in his neck moving faster as sweat continued to form on his brow. He wanted nothing more than to wrap John in his arms and never let him go. He had gotten him into this mess and he was sure as hell going to get him out.

John tried to catch Sherlock's eye again but Sherlock quickly ducked his head and paced again.

"Alright what do you want this time? Money, a plane, an island..." Moriarty just smirked at Lestrade and nodded his head towards Sherlock.

"He knows what I want."

"Alright Sherlock, just tell us and we'll get it, nothing has to happen to John. I promise," Sherlock swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the urge to shout at them all for being so stupid. It wasn't their job to save John, it was _his._ Why couldn't they just open their stupid, tiny minds and see that?

"How?" Sherlock walked right up to Moriarty and quietly asked him, hoping to putt of the idiotic cops for a little while. He got an amused smirk in return.

"However you wish to do it, as long as it's really you this time." He whispered back maliciously. Sherlock narrowed his eyes in return and stalked away to think. "I have a gun if you prefer that to painting the sidewalk with your blood, although I imagine you would paint such a pretty picture, don't you think John?" He called after the detective who shut his eyes and set his jaw in annoyance.

"Holmes what's he talking about?" Donovan asked, annoyed at having to speak to him directly no doubt.

"Sherlock," John's voice cut in through the millions of thoughts going on in his head and he swallowed. "Sherlock please look at me," He didn't even listen to the rest of his friend's sentence. John's asking his best friend to save him and of course he'll do it. Sherlock always considers what John wants because he love-

"I love him." The words were barely audible as they passed his lips. When did this happen? Did friends love each other? Since when did Sherlock Holmes _love _anyone? Since when was this possible? How-

His thoughts were interrupted once more as Donovan's gun fired off and shot Moriarty straight in the middle of the forehead. The detective only froze for a moment before shouting and running towards John.

"NO! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE YOU INSOLENT LITTLE-" And for once in his life, the youngest Holmes shut his mouth and his mind stopped moving at hyper speed.

"You're alive." John started to smile at him but he wasn't paying attention as he ripped the bomb off the soldier's body and pulled him tightly into his own. "You're alive, how are you...of course!" He moved away from John, "of COURSE! How didn't I see it, he was just messing with me, trying to see if he could win." He glared down at Moriarty's still grinning face. Because he had won, he knew that Sherlock was planning on killing himself and so had Donovan which is why she shot the lunatic now lying dead on the rooftop. But why did Donovan care? Oh, of course. She didn't obviously but Lestrade had ordered her to do so while his back was turned, _of course_!

He pulled John back to him and tucked his chin over the back of the smaller man's blonde head, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. Why was he being so affectionate? He knew that friend's were affectionate with each other but were they this affectionate? Was he doing the wrong thing? He pulled away, somewhat reluctantly and grabbed John's arm.

"Let's get you back to the apartment so you can make me a cup of tea." He faintly heard John's laughter as they found their way out of the tall building.

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><p><strong>AN- Okay so after this their relationship definitely progresses fast in Chapter 7...right now there's a lot of smut in it and I want to know if you guys want that type of thing or if you want me to keep it light, maybe only mention kissing or something like that? I'm not uploading chapter 7 today, but hopefully this one will hold you over for now.**

**But seriously, let me know what you want and then I'll edit the chapter if I need to and upload it. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay, so there is definite smut factor in this chapter, leave now if you wish to not read it. x**

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><p>John?" John glanced over at the detective who was currently sat cross-legged in his chair and had his hands folded into their usual stance in front of his mouth.<p>

"Yes?" He began pouring the boiling water over their tea bags.

"Do friends love each other?" John's hand began unsteady and he splashed some water onto his other.

"Ow, bollocks!" He quickly set down the water and dried his burnt hand off.

"Are you alright?" John nodded and finished making the tea. "That question surprised you, why?"

"Blimey Sherlock, what's gotten into you? I mean you didn't even notice the bomb was a fluke. Even _I _knew it wasn't real, I was trying to give you a sign but you kept avoiding my eyes. What was that about anyway?" Sherlock's eyes darted from John's face to the tea being set down in front of him then back up to his friend.

"You're avoiding my question John. Do friends love each other? Do you love me?"

"And you're avoiding mine!" John shot back at the infuriating man and tried not to blush. Did he love Sherlock? It wasn't weird to love your friend right? Because John was definitely not, under any circumstance, gay.

The two men sat in silence as they finished their drinks.

"John will you please answer me?"

"Why, Sherlock, why is it so bloody important to you?" John clipped out, annoyed as he grabbed their mugs and brought them back into the kitchen.

"Because I think I love you." One of the cups slid from the soldier's grasp and fell to the floor, luckily on the carpet just under the sink so it didn't crack.

"You...I...you..._what?_" He didn't hear a joking tone in his friend's voice and was too afraid that Sherlock would make fun of the redness currently occupying his face to turn to face the man.

"I think...while we were on the rooftop," his friend's voice was much closer now; Sherlock had moved from his seat to the kitchen and was standing just feet behind John. "I realized that I was going to do it, I was going to kill myself to save you because I loved you and that's why I faked my death before...I could get over Mrs. Hudson and Molly, as horrible as that sounds but I don't think I could ever get over you dying because of me, John." He cleared his throat and still refused to turn around to face his friend. "Now I'm asking you if that's a thing friends do or if I'm feeling something more because...this," Sherlock took a deep breath, "this isn't my area of expertise per say. And I don't really know what's going on right now John." John finally sighed and turned to face his friend. His friend that he loved? Love how?

"Look Sherlock, I don't really know, I mean...blimey." Sherlock took another step forward so that he and John were within arm's distance of each other.

"Will you do something for me if I ask you of it John?" John swallowed before nodding, of course he would. He would do anything for this impossible man. "Kiss me, please. I...I don't really know how to do it otherwise I would've kissed you already. It's just an experiment to see what I'm feeling. I know that you're straight and that you don't return my feelings but I," He took another deep breath, "I'm just not used to not knowing what's going on and I need to know now."

John didn't even know what he was doing as he reached forward and pulled the taller man's face down to his own, crashing their lips together. He inhaled sharply as they connected, realizing all of a sudden that he wanted this, and that he needed this. He pulled his friend's body as close to his as he possibly could and wrapped his arms around him as Sherlock responded, tentatively but just as enthusiastically.

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><p>Sherlock's entire body tingled as his mouth moved with John's, he was new to this but obviously it wasn't something you necessarily needed practice at to get the hang of. He grasped John's arms and backed him up against the counter harshly, excited about this new experiment and knowing by John's reaction they would be continuing this. Suddenly all of the hormones Sherlock had shoved into a drawer in his mind and meant to delete had come rushing back through his veins, controlling his every move until John broke apart from him, gasping for air. Is this what people meant when they talked about animal instincts?<p>

"Sher-" John gasped for breath and tried to continue, "Sherlock. Blimey what the hell was that?" The detective looked down at his friend and cocked his head a little to the side, letting out the smallest of smiles.

"Two men not being gay." John actually managed a short laugh before Sherlock pulled him back in, pulling the shorter man even further into the detective's embrace until he felt like they were melding together.

Sherlock could feel his desire growing and could feel John's as well; he smiled into the kiss, for once excited about not thinking just doing. Well, not thinking as much as a Holmes boy could manage.

He grabbed the shorter man; mouths still attached and trafficked his way around the kitchen and living room until they ended up in Sherlock's room, tumbling onto his bed.

"Sherlock," John moaned as the detective's mouth moved from mouth to his neck. "Jesus you're a fast learner." Sherlock's body hummed with laughter as he nipped at the exposed skin of the soldier's body. "Sherlock maybe we should stop, I mean neither of us have done this before-"

"Wrong. You have done this before John," Sherlock brought his face so his sea glass eyes could stare into his soldier's dark blue ones. "You were in the army John, people have needs. You all did things you swore you'd never do, and that's why every time someone questioned our relationship you shot down their ideas so forcefully." He brought his head back down to Johns and kissed him quickly, "I know you Mr. Watson, don't think you can slip anything past me."

"Fine, whatever but Sherlock you haven't- I mean blimey you're amazing and I had no idea you were that fast of a learner but do you really want to do this right now? _Oh God,_" John groaned and bucked his hips into the other man's hand as he rubbed him through his jeans.

"Stop thinking of me as some innocent little child John, I know what I'm doing and I'm not going to run away crying later claiming you took advantage of me. I thought this would be hard, I thought it would be disgusting and useless but now...Blimey I don't know John. But I do know that right now you just need to," Sherlock brought his mouth up to his ear, "let go." And with that John roughly flipped them over so he was on top and began ripping buttons off the detective's shirt, following his hands with his tongue. John tugged off his own shirt before starting on the slender man's pants, following his friend's advice and letting completely go. He grabbed both his pants and boxers and tugged them off Sherlock's body, throwing them behind him before ripping his socks off too. Sherlock sat up and popped the button on John's jeans open and pulling his fly down before shoving the jeans off his hips. The soldier took the hint and threw his pants on top of Sherlock's.

He climbed back on top of the detective and ground their hips together, both men moaning in response.

"Fuck that feels good," John gasped in between a kiss and Sherlock growled a confirmation. John reached his hand in between them and grasped both of them together, which proved quite difficult with just his one hand so Sherlock decided to help and used his own hand to help. Together they pulled and rotated their hands, grunting into their kisses as they both yearned for release.

"Oh fuck, John, John what, I don't," John reached his other hand up and cupped Sherlock's face, turning their kiss to a more tender one.

"Shh, it's alright. You can get through this Sherlock, you'll feel much better once you do." Sherlock whimpered and let his head fall back as John began sucking on his collarbone, continuing to twist his hand up and down their lengths. John didn't expect the detective to be as loud as he was as they both moaned through their release and if he had been thinking straight he might've put his hand over the angelic man's mouth to silence him a little because he wasn't sure if Mrs. Hudson was home or not.

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><p><strong>AN- Okay, so smut is apparently very good for this story, and basically this story isn't going to go much further once I establish and work through John & Sherlock's relationship but I'm glad that people like it. :)**

**All of your reviews are extremely helpful, so thank you! And I am taking all your notes into consideration-with that being said, I might go back and write another chapter before six to kind of transition into the drama in that chapter because I am aware it was a little abrupt. But I'm not sure of anything right now so keep up to date with what you guys want and I'll try to comply.**

**From now on I'm going to try and keep chapters somewhere around 1000 words because I don't expect too many more chapters, so unless I really am stuck for ideas you have that to look forward to! I'm afraid the next chapter might be about a week though because I just had an operation done this morning so I won't be able to use the computer much until the weekend, so excuse the late updating!**

**x**


	9. Chapter 9

When John woke he was alone. His heart automatically went into panic mode; he'd made a mistake last night. Sherlock hadn't wanted to really do that. Of course he hadn't, he was _Sherlock_. He never wanted to do anything that normal people found fun. He'd probably gotten dressed and ran out, never planning on coming back to this apartment again.

"You are aware that I can tell you're freaking out from across an entire apartment. Really John I would've hoped you could have picked up on _some _of my genius by now."

"Wh-what?" He sat up in Sherlock's bed and looked around him, trying to calm his nerves.

"Deduce John, think." John took another deep breath, closing his eyes and immediately they snapped back open.

"_Are you frying bacon_?" He heard a chuckle of confirmation from the kitchen.

"Isn't that what you people do, make breakfast for each other after a night like that?" He slipped out of the bed and pulled his boxers back on before walking out into the kitchen.

"You know how to cook?" He raised an eyebrow at his friend in an unbelieving manner as a plate was shoved in his direction across the counter.

"Well, see for yourself then, it is astonishing how little faith you have in me sometimes Watson." John rolled his eyes before picking up a piece of the crispy meat and biting into it. "See," Sherlock smiled at him, "I'm an excellent cook."

"Right, so why is it I'm always stuck with making the food?" John began eating the rest of the food on his plate.

"Oh please John, why should I concern myself with such mundane tasks when I have you around?" The detective scoffed and John found that instead of getting annoyed like he normally would he began laughing heartily.

"You are such an ass." Sherlock laughed along with him and nodded.

"I know, but apparently you like my ass." That sobered John up and it was Sherlock's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh honestly John, why are you so embarrassed? I told you before I wanted to do it, and obviously we both liked it. I don't see why it shouldn't continue."

John's eyebrows shot up as his friend-lover?-leaned in and quickly kissed him.

"I think I quite like kissing, it's nicer than I thought it would be. I guess it would be hard to describe shoving skin on skin as fun." The soldier knew well enough to keep his mouth shut as they finished their food. "So how did you guys do it in the army? Were you the one giving or receiving?" He started choking and had to gulp down half a glass of water before he found his voice again.

"Oh, uh, well both I guess." He coughed into his hand and refused to look into the eagle eyes trying to capture his doe like ones.

"Right well I quite like to think we should try both, and see which works out better." Sherlock sent him a quick smile before dumping his plate into the sink. "You can take care of the dishes; I'm not as good at those as I am at cooking." It took another eye roll before the shorter man got up and started to clean up the other's mess.

"Ah, John?" He mumbled a reply so Sherlock would know he was listening as he was putting the pans away. "Should we plan out when we're going to do this? Is that normal or is it supposed to be more of a surprise?" The soldier put the last pan away and took a deep breath before walking over to the taller man and pushing him back onto the couch, pressing his mouth as hard as he could into Sherlock's who responded happily. "So a surprise then," the detective gasped as John moved his mouth down his slender neck.

John took matters into his own hands and decided that he would be the one experimenting with who should be doing what first. "Roll over," He growled into Sherlock's skin who shuddered before complying. He took no time in shoving both of their pants down before a tube of lube was thrown back at him. "Did you plan this?" John demanded, forgetting what they were in the middle of for a minute, his only response was an ass being shoved back into his groin making him groan and remember his place. He quickly lubed up two fingers and stretched the only moaning consulting detective in the world so that he could fit into him. It only took about a minute before he couldn't stand it anymore and lubed up his cock, using all of his concentration not to slam into his partner. "Oh my fucking God," He groaned as he slid into the hilt, slumping over Sherlock's back and giving him a minute to get used to it.

"Not quite." John bit Sherlock's shoulder before pulling out and slamming back in, deciding that he shouldn't be coherent enough to have the ability to retort.

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><p>John's effort at trying to clear Sherlock's mind went very well. No matter how much he tried to keep a grasp on reality John kept hitting this spot inside his body and <em>mother of God <em>it felt amazing and he was instantly pulled under the tranquillity of just feeling until he couldn't take anymore and found his release as his friend continued to pound in and out of him, hitting him just so.

He couldn't even recall what he had screamed as he came just then, his mind was utterly, blissfully blank as he felt John release himself inside before slumping back over Sherlock and panting.

"Fuck I love you," John groaned into his shoulder before nipping at it again and Sherlock groaned back his agreement.

"I think I quite like this experiment so far." He felt the body on top of him vibrate with laughter and silently laughed along, not even minding the second layer of cum currently drying on his skin and the first layer of many to dry on the couch.

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><p>Sherlock's phone beeped and like a robot the man leapt out of bed to retrieve it from his pant pocket which were still in the same place they had been discarded two nights ago. John, who was blissfully worn out didn't even turn over in his sleep at the loss of the body that he had been resting on.<p>

"Watson!" The detective had to shake his partner a few times before the man awoke, blinking groggily. "Lestrade wants us to come into the station, there's a new case they need help with." The slender man moved blindly around the pitch black room grabbing various items of clothing and throwing them on. "Well he says new, frankly I'm surprised it's taken him this long to contact us, the man knows that his team is useless at solving serial cases which obviously this is. WATSON!" John jolted awake again and to shut the other man up, got out of bed and bumped into various objects until he made his way to his room to pull on a fresh shirt and jeans.

"How are you not exhausted?" He yawned at the elegant, refreshed looking man walking next to him as they made their way to the station. Sherlock decided it was best not to hail a cab seeing as John could barely stay awake while he was standing on his own two feet.

"How are you so utterly exhausted?" The man scoffed back, "I mean honestly John, if sex tires normal people out this much then why do people continue to do it?"

"You know why," John gave him a look as they rounded the corner and pulled the door open so Sherlock could enter first.

"Christ John, you look like you've been worn to the bone. The Freak been keeping you up with that bloody violin of his?" John barely managed to hide his blush with a yawn and nod at Donovan, using all of his concentration to not smack the now-smirking 'freak' next to him.

When everyone was trying to explain the case Sherlock snuck up behind John and bent down so he could whisper in the soldier's ear. "What do you think, should we tell dear Sgt. Donovan what's really been keeping you up?" John folded his hands in front of his crotch as he felt a stirring. Sherlock just laughed smugly in his ear. "Oh well this could be interesting, how do you feel about sex in public my dear Watson?"

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><p><strong>AN- Alrighty so there you go, imagine what you will. I have a feeling I'll just be writing one more chapter for this since I basically summed up that Sherlock & John would be continuing their relationship after this in the chapter you just read.**

**IMPORTANT: I did go back and add a new Chapter 6 in, so the old chapter 6 is now chapter 7 as chapter 7 is now 8. (it's confusing I know, but I think it'll help transition into the abruptness of Moriarty a little) So yeah, go check that out, I did change the beginning of Chapter 7 (previously 6) so that the new chapter 6 would fit in better tool. Chapter 10 might possibly be up by the end of the weekend. x**


	10. Chapter 10

"What the hell is wrong with you Sherlock?" John demanded as he threw his coat on his chair as they entered the flat, thoroughly annoyed at the detective.

"What? Oh honestly John it's not like they didn't already think it was going on." Sherlock dramatically flopped himself into his chair and watched John as he made them a few cups of tea, because no matter how angry he got John always made them tea when they got home.

"You didn't have to encourage them! Anderson will never stop making gay jokes around us now!" He slammed one of the mugs onto the counter and sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"And I'm the dramatic one?" John glared in the direction of the other man who simply lifted his eyebrows in response, "honestly John, it was just a kiss. I'm not apologizing for kissing you." In the heat of the moment after solving a case in the first 30 seconds of examining the scene, the detective had run up to the soldier and grabbed both sides of his face and kissing him before running off from the scene, shouting the killer back at Lestrade. John had been left awkwardly stunned into silence while everyone stared in shock at him before he blushed furiously and ran after his infuriating friend. Boyfriend? No, that didn't sound right. Because John wasn't gay he just...he just loved Sherlock. So friends it is then.

He shook his head and sighed before continuing to make the tea, ignoring Sherlock as he stood and began walking over to him before coming up behind him and resting his head in the crook of John's shoulder.

He felt the other man smile into his shoulder before nipping the soldier's neck. He groaned and leaned back into Sherlock forgetting about the tea as he felt arms wrap around his middle as the assault continued on his neck. He fought his urges for a few minutes, trying to focus on the tea but eventually gave in and roughly turned himself into the taller man. He pulled their lips together as they pushed each other trying to get the other up against the counter.

"Mine," Sherlock grinned in triumph against John's mouth as he succeeded in pushing the soldier up against the counter before tugging him through the apartment to their room. He shoved John onto the bed before climbing on top of him and continuing their kiss, deepening it even more.

He pushed John's hands above his head, moving so that he held them with one of his hands while the other was brought down to explore the growing interest in his pants. The soldier moaned and bucked up into Sherlock's hand, desperately trying to get his hands free so he could explore the body on top of him again for the umpteenth time. Sherlock laughed as the groan as he took his hand from John's crotch and moved it up to his own neck to remove his scarf. He put all his weight on John as he leant forward and wrapped the fabric around his wrists before taking the ends and tying them to his headboard.

"You bastard," John groaned breathlessly as Sherlock smirked and began unbuttoning his shirt, leaving it splayed open since his arms weren't currently available, before moving his head down and placing kisses down his chest until he got to his jeans. He glanced back up at the soldier as he grabbed the button between his lips and slowly undid it. "How the hell did you learn to do that?" John gasped as Sherlock slowly followed by pulling down his zipper as well. He lifted his body up as Sherlock tugged his jeans and pants off in one go before he crawled back up to his mouth. John desperately pressed his naked body up to the fully clothed one and whimpered into his mouth. "You know," John gasped out as Sherlock took his cock all the way down his throat, "it's really not fair that you have all your clothes on." He whimpered again as the attention was moved from his cock to his balls.

"You're right, it's not fair." Sherlock moved his attention completely away as he unbuttoned his shirt and started taking everything off.

"It's fine," John breathed out, knowing that even though he said he wouldn't give one this was the best apology he would get.

"I know it is," Sherlock grunted back as he quickly lifted John's legs and stuck two fingers inside of him. John groaned and tried to get the fingers deeper but Sherlock pulled them out before quickly placing the tip of his own cock against John's ass. He leant forward and grabbed John's face in his hands before slowly pushing inside.

"Oh fuck," John gasped and shut his eyes.

"Open your eyes John, I need to see them." John fought against his eyelids as he slowly opened his eyes and looked straight into Sherlock's sea glass irises. He barely managed to keep them open as the detective continued to pull almost all the way out before slamming back in, hitting John's prostate with each thrust.

John had to fight to keep his eyes open the entire time but instead of pulling his attention away from his orgasm it seemed to just strengthen his sense of touch. Every time Sherlock ran his hands over his body or pulled his mouth feverishly back to his he felt like his nerves went into overload.

"Jesus Christ," John gasped as Sherlock hit his prostate once again and he came without Sherlock having ever touched his cock. The detective whimpered a minute later and shoved his mouth back on John's before having his own release, gasping into the shorter mans mouth the entire time.

"Not quite." Sherlock mumbled into John's shoulder who laughed breathlessly before letting his legs fall back to the bed.

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><p>Sherlock rolled over, waking up from his peaceful sleep and found himself face to face with John. He smiled slightly and brought his hand up to touch the older man's face softly. The soldier shifted slightly closer to the detective and gave a content sigh.<p>

Still smiling, Sherlock shifted his body so that his head rested on John's chest; right arm lying over his stomach and his right leg entangled with John's left.

"I love you."

"Mmm, love you too." John mumbled still half asleep as he wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling him tighter before drifting back to sleep.

_**Fin**_

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><p><em><strong><strong>_**A/N- Alright, so that's it. I think I've done all I wanted to with this story. I'm glad that people liked it and thank you all for reviewing/messaging me about it. ****There's a possibility that I'll go back and consider adding more to certain chapters but I'm not promising anything because it all depends on how I feel about this story in a few weeks.**

**I love the idea of them staying together and I'm really happy with how this story came out so thank you all for helping me along the way.**

**x**


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